


Shock to the Heart

by Utini501



Category: Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Action/Adventure, Comedy, Drama, Gen, Redemption, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-08-23 10:50:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20241646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Utini501/pseuds/Utini501
Summary: Upon leaving jail after a particularly humiliating defeat at the hands of a newbie hero, Herman Schultz, a.k.a The Shocker, has just about had it. Ten years of his heists and robberies being foiled by Spider-Man have destroyed his self-confidence, his friends in the supervillain community destroyed it even further, high paying clients like Tombstone won't hire him anymore, and on top of that? A lot of major supervillains have been retiring, getting hired by big-name organizations like HYDRA or AIM, and in a few cases even turning into full-blown heroes, leaving him a glorified fossil struggling for relevance in a very crowded community.Shocker honestly contemplates just ending his miserable life before he's saved by a certain annoying web-slinger, who points him towards the homeless shelter F.E.A.S.T in order to help him get back on his feet. And despite his initial unwillingness, Shocker realizes that his talents lend himself to doing a lot of good for the general public: feeding the hungry, fighting street crime, protecting a traumatized girl from a dangerous organization... but can he work past his stubborn pride and self-loathing to truly make a change for the better?





	1. The New Kids on the Block

**Author's Note:**

> Note: This fic isn't set in any particular Marvel universe. Overall it incorporates bits from the mainstream comics, the MCU, various video games, cartoons, and movies, but is more of it's own thing so I have freedom to play around with the characters in ways that don't contradict 60+ years of comic continuity.

"STOP RIGHT THERE, ASSHOLE!"

No matter how old you are, there's nothing more awkward than getting caught in the act of stealing something. Whether it's snatching cookies from the jar, swiping your best friend's Skeletor toy, or stuffing a box of freshly smuggled Latverian cigars in a canvas bag, you look like an idiot with zero self-control, little better than a seagull swiping people's food at the beach. I dropped my bag on the ground and did as I was told: raising my gauntlet-clad hands in the air while a pair of wiseguys with slicked back hair and cheap suits stepped into the cabin, their guns trained on me. They weren't standing too close, but the noxious scent of their over-applied cologne and cheap hair gel made my eyes water all the same.

"Mary mother'a god. I don't believe it! I don't friggin' believe it!" The bigger of the pair sneered, shaking his head dismissively. "Shocker, tryin' ta rip off a Maggia yacht?! Do ya have a death wish, or are ya just retarded?"

"I'd say retarded, Vito. I mean, what do you expect from some mook who runs around wrapped up in his grandma's quilt?!"

Ha ha ha, oh how hilarious. A real zinger of an insult, that one! Wasn't like I already heard it a million times... but as shaky as my hands were and red as my face was, I let it slide. Because ultimately? These neanderthal-lookin' lowlifes weren't worth holding a grudge over: they were peons sucking on old Don Vincente Fortunato's teat, and would be shit outta luck once the geezer kicked the bucket. But me? I was gonna live like a king after tonight's heist, and would live out the rest of my days in total paradise... though I'd have to get past these guys to do so. Not like that was a tall order, given they had maybe slightly more intelligence than the average ham sandwich. I had multiple means of dispatching these goons, so I took a few seconds to assess my options while the smaller Fortunato goon decided to mouth off some more.

"Ha! Just look at him Vinny! He's scared speechless!"

"Oh I can tell! Do ya think he pissed his pants?!"

"Nah. Just confused." I say as I point out the doorway. "I mean, why did you guys let the Punisher on board?"

The goons screamed like little girls before turning around, only to be met with an empty passageway. Their idiocy gave me an ample amount of time to charge up my battle gauntlets and send them flying out the room with a "gentle" level one vibroshock blast. This was the weakest setting on my gauntlets since I didn't want to alert the partygoers on deck, but thankfully? It still packed enough power to knock the wind out of those morons, and they spent a few seconds sprawled out on the velvety carpeted floor while I crossed my arms and grinned like an idiot under my mask.

"Never thought I'd say this... but thank _god _for Frank Castle!"

Indeed, he is _such _an effective boogeyman to terrorize dumber criminals with. Maggia goons, gangbangers, Neo-Nazis? All you had to do was cry out "Punisher!" and the poor saps would practically soil their boxers as they tried to get a bead on the imaginary psycho, which gave you ample time to beat them senseless or escape. Scary as it was, having a serial-killing psycho terrorize NYC's criminal underground had it's benefits...

"Ngh... ya stupid asshole!" the larger grunt moaned as he and his smaller compatriot shakily rose to their feet. "You're not gonna leave this boat alive!"

The big lug charged at me and I stood my ground, ready for whatever he'd throw my way. He reared back his arm in hopes of nailing me with a right hook, but I blocked the blow with a gauntlet-clad fist. The guy broke his knuckles punching solid metal, and screamed in agony before I grabbed him and knocked him out cold by smashing his face against the door frame. Now I just had one guy to deal with, but before I could formulate any kind of battle plan the smaller Fortunato goon seized the opportunity to gut me with a switchblade.

Or at least, _tried _to gut me. My trusty suit's deceptively thick layer of padding stopped the blade from penetrating my skin, so when the smug thug pulled it out? Instead of a knife dripping with my blood, he was met with the sight of a few clumps of foamy insulation clinging to the blade.

"Aw shit..." he moaned before getting a vibro-charged fist to the face and collapsing on top of the bigger guy.

"A word to the wise," I whispered at the unconscious wiseguys laying on the ground, "_Never _mock the Shocker."

And I wasn't just trying to play it cool with a corny one-liner: I meant it with all my heart. There are _so _many lame crooks and creeps running around picking fights with superheroes: you've got Stiltman, whose gimmick is committing crimes on big friggin' legs. Then there's Kangaroo, a dumbass bogan from "Down Undah" whose power is jumping REALLY high because he spent his childhood watching kangaroos in the outback. Seriously. And let's not forget about Swarm, the _Nazi made of bees _who's content to just run around and rob banks with White Rabbit's dumbass gang!

But no, it's _me _who gets treated like a walking punch-line. Because of course it'd be me. Why wouldn't it be?

Anyway, if you somehow didn't get the memo, then I'll give you a quick rundown: the name's Herman Schultz, though you'd know me better as the Shocker. 

If you only get your news from biased news sources, you'd know me as a clown with an unfortunate sobriquet running around in a full-body yellow and brown onesie who gets his ass handed to him by Spider-Man on a daily basis. But if you actually sat down and got to know me? You'd realize that I'm legit. At max power, my battle gauntlets can level buildings and liquefy any Joe Schmoe I hit with them (Which I hope never happens, on account of that would be horrifying). But on their weaker settings, they can still send armored cars flying, rip bank vault doors off their hinges, and bowl over armies of cops and maybe 90% of superheroes who want to pick a fight with me. And my oft-mocked outfit which has been compared to quilts and pineapples? Not only does it protect me from the strength of my own gauntlets, but it's thick padding lessens the impact of hard-hitting physical blows, stops bullets from turning me into swiss cheese, and keeps most bladed weapons from shish-kebabing me. You see, what I may sacrifice in aesthetics I make up for in practicality, and as far as practicality goes? I'm leagues beyond most of the schmucks in the supervillain game.

You see, I'm not some mass-murdering maniac looking to kill thousands due to being slighted by some bigshot. I'm not looking to take over the world, NYC, or anything bigger than maybe my local bowling league. I don't have a murder-boner for mutants, and I don't want to summon demonic forces or aliens to tear apart the Earth. I just want to steal loot, run for the hills, and hopefully end up with Tony Stark levels of "Screw you" money before retiring. And when I'm off the clock, I'm just another Joe Schmoe eating pizza while watching reruns of Burn Notice back home. That, ladies and gents, is practicality at it's finest.

And it served me well for over two years when I was starting out as an independent crook: I'd bust into a bank or upturn an armored car, grab as much dough as I could hold, and flee with the cash in hand while blitzing through any cops or heroic pedestrians who got in my way. Since I never graduated beyond robbery the Avengers never felt the need to crack down on me, and because I've never taken so much as a single life, I stayed off the Punisher's radar. I hoarded so much cash over those two years, and I was on the fast track to getting my big score... then along came a spider. Or specifically, a Spider-_Man,_ and life got a lot more complicated.

That obnoxious, zippy, hard-hitting, quip-spouting pain in the ass can match me blow for blow and has _constantly _set me back on accumulating my "big score" through a series of humiliating defeats. And it's led me to having to leave my simple "smash and grab" mentality behind in favor of more elaborate heists: collaborating with the Enforcers, Electro, Rhino, Sandman, or Hydro Man, tagging along with a team of professional mooks who answered to bigshots like Kingpin and Tombstone... and now? I was robbing a yacht I had stowed away on, the sixth over these past two months. It took a lot of prep work, having to account for when the yacht would be at sea, who all would be there, how many valuables they'd have with them, how feasible stealing everything and getting away in one piece is... it takes a lot of work, but honestly? It's safe work because Spider-Man can't do jack-squat out at sea. He's got very few surfaces to swing around from, even fewer to bounce between while getting hits in, and he'd be seen coming a mile away before even getting sort of close to the yacht which would give me ample time to make a quick getaway.

_'The perfect crime,' _I thought to myself as I went back in the cabin and continued pilfering it's valuables. I was so friggin' high from my most recent successes that I whistled a tune as I shoved fat wads of cash, jewelry, golden silverware, and an ultra-rare collector's edition of Playboy with a highly desired centerfold of She-Hulk drenched in soapy water (one of five in existence published back in '97).

_'Heh. I think I'll be holding on to THAT one,' _I thought to myself as I exited the room, making sure to grab a $900 bottle of wine and on the way out and putting that in the bag as well. Looking back on this heist over a year later, I don't know if I wanna laugh or cringe at how naive I was, thinking I'd be able to enjoy the spoils from my greatest caper yet...

"Hey Morrie, catch!"

I flung the bag out of an open window and into the ocean below, where it slowly sank below the sea. Now I know, you're likely confused and about to ask "Shocker, what the hell?!" Well guys, remember what I said earlier about how Hydro-Man was one of the supervillains I tend to do jobs with? Well, when you're stripping a yacht of all it's valuables, it just so happens that having a guy who can turn into and control water on your side is a hell of a great way to get the job done as discreetly as possible. Just toss bag after bag stuffed with valuables overboard, where he can transport them to your nearby seaside warehouse hideout, drain all the moisture, and return in a flash...

Anyway, that was the last room I had to raid: the rest of the yacht's personal cabins had been looted of their valuables, so next up? It was time to steal the valuables Don Fortunato, his friends, and family all had on their person: jewelry, credit cards, cash, and of course, bank account information. So I grabbed a canvas bag under a hallway couch (Which happened to be my hiding spot when I stowed away with several other bags in tow: you will not BELIEVE how bad Don Fortunato's goons are at working security) and hauled my filthy rich butt onto the deck. And as I made my approach, I could hear the Don's surprisingly strong voice booming from outside, blustering to his guests about tonight's event. It a charity wine-tasting where the guests would drop mad cash to sample heavily marked up wine from the Fortunato family's private vineyard back in the old country. Pretentious, but hey: it was clearly a good source of revenue given the praises Fortunato was singing to his band of buttkissers.

"I just want to say to you all that I'm honored to see such an impressive turnout for tonight's event, and with such generous donations to boot! Seventy thousand dollars raised... heh. Last I felt this blown away, it was when we beat the Reds to the moon in '69! Rest assured, folks: your donations will _not_ to go to waste: 'cause every single cent is going to the Mar-Vell Foundation so we can get closer to finally rubbing out that stubborn bastard called cancer!"

I rolled my eyes while all the attendees clapped like a bunch of trained sea lions. _"Oh geez, isn't he such a kind old man for letting rich idiots jerk each other off over how generous they are while totally not pocketing their money for himself?"_

Ugh, it was just sickening to think about... though it would make robbing all these morons that much more satisfying. So with my thumbs hovering over the triggers on my gauntlets, I kicked the door open and stepped out onto the deck of the yacht, where I fired off a threatening level 2 blast that turned a marble statue of a woman into dust as a warning to the crowd. Suddenly, screams echoed through the air while old Don Fortunato shrank back, the eye not covered by an eyepatch widened in surprise.

"Shocker! What the- how... how did you even get on board?!"

"Thank your men for that," I sneered, which caused the eyes of his leisure suit-wearing lackeys to go all wild with fear, "Oh don't worry, far as I know you don't have any traitors in your midst. They're just _that _bad at protecting you."

I saw the old coot shoot a look at his men which just screamed, _"I'll deal with you idiots later. And your families as well."_ Not gonna lie, I felt bad for them... but that sympathy sure as hell didn't outweigh my need for more cash.

"So anyway, I'm gonna keep it nice and simple: I want every single one of you to put your valuables in this bag! Cash, credit cards, jewelry, you name it!" I demanded, opening up the bag and holding it forward while opening the front pocket and whipping out a small stack of notecards. "And while we're at it, when it's your turn to give up your valuables, you're going to take one of these cards with you. If you have a phone on hand, then you're going to wire _all _your money to the offshore bank account listed here! Now hurry it up, 'cause I've got places to be!"

The partygoers all looked fifty different shades of nervous and terrified, but Don Fortunato stood tall and defiant like any crusty old mobster worth his salt would.

"Ha, well what would that place happen to be, a shallow grave? You've got to be a special kinda stupid to pick a fight with a guy like me, Shocker."

I heard the sound of multiple guns cocking, and saw that just about every other Fortunato goon on board had their weapons trained on me. Pretty scary, since my suit can't stand up to that many guys shooting at me at once. However, what the old coot and his band of bumblers didn't know was that I had a hell of an ace up my sleeve...

"Funny, I'd say the same about you," I retorted, causing all the sheep around us to gasp at such a blatant sign of disrespect. "Have you been keeping up with the news lately?"

"What, about the Yacht robberies? I know you're behind them, what's your point?"

"You're forgetting about my partner in crime! MORRIE, COME ON OUT!"

It may sound tacky as all hell, but I smugly folded my arms when a huge behemoth breached the surface of the water and splashed an enormous wave of salty droplets on board, which caused the party guests to either scream, shout, or in one Fortunato goon's case, yell "Holy shit!" and drop his gun. Towering over the yacht was an _enormous _man made of water, whose muscular physique, chiseled face, and smug grin made him look like an avatar of Poseidon himself. And in this context he may as well have been: on land he was a glorified goon with water powers, but on the sea? Hydro-Man was in his element, in both the figurative and literal sense.

**"HEY, NICE PARTY YA GOT THERE, CHUMPS!" **Hydro-Man greeted, his booming voice powerful enough to put James Earl Jones to shame, **"WOULD BE A REAL SHAME IF I... CRASHED IT!"**

My titanic partner in crime reared back a colossal watery fist and threw a punch right at the yacht that stopped just short of hitting it, causing another wave of screams while he guffawed like an overgrown Kindergarten bully. Kinda nice to know that even with god-like powers, Morris Bench was still the same goofy lunkhead he was back when we were kids.

"Whoa! Careful there, Morrie!" I warned playfully before turning my attention back to the crowd. "Now as you can see, Hydro-Man here is a hell of a rambunctious guy. When he's all fired up, he tends to run wild which is _pretty _bad when you're this far from the mainland! But lucky for you, shiny things pacify the big lug so if you don't want to sink to the bottom of the Hudson, then you'll do as I say and fork over all your valuables! NOW!"

**"OH, AND DON'T TRY TO CALL THE COPS! 'CAUSE IF I EVEN _THINK _I SEE POLICE BOAT HEADIN' OUR WAY, I'M GONNA DROWN YA." **Morrie then looked down at me and gave me a thumb up. **"'CEPT YOU, HERMAN. YOU'LL BE OKAY!"**

"Heh, thanks."

Now of course, we weren't about to let all these people drown if they didn't cooperate. Sure, I may be a lying, cheating, no-good crook, but I draw a hard line at murder. Granted, Spider-Man is the one guy I might just make an exception for, but still: I don't like the idea of ending some guy's life just because I wanted to make a few million bucks. If push came to shove, Morrie could simply envelop them with millions of watery tentacles and forcibly pilfer their valuables before we both made a quick escape.

But threat of death is a hell of a motivator, and everyone was quick to fall in line, big bad Don Fortunato included. I felt like a million bucks as I walked up to the old geezer with my bag opened wide, but before he could put so much as one cent inside our exchange was interrupted by the sound of an incoming aircraft... followed by a girl's voice. A very _young _girl's voice.

"Hands in the air, scumbags! I've got an anatomically incorrect dinosaur, and I'm not afraid to use him!"

Just about everyone stared around, mumbling in confusion until we all looked into the sky and saw a spherical ship slowly descend towards the yacht. We all gawked at the spacecraft and Morrie whispered a deep **"What the hell?"** before the young, bossy voice threatened us again.

"Yeah, I'm talking to you Shocker and Hydro-Man! Put your hands in the air and come quietly if you don't want to be dino chow!"

Alright, just what the hell was going on here? Was it some sort of prank, or a weird distraction set up by Spider-Man? I have to admit, out of all the possible ways a wrench could have been thrown in our heist, no way in hell was I expecting some punk kid in a spaceship to fly by and... threaten to sic a dinosaur on us?

"Alright kid, I have no idea what you're playing at but you better scram, or else!"

"Or else what?" She asked mockingly.

"Or else Hydro-Man and I are gonna sink this ship! You can't save everyone, so why don't you do the right thing and beat it?! That way nobody gets hurt!"

"You're bluffing," She responded with the bluntness of one of Juggernaut's charges, "I've done my research! I know Hydro-Man's killed people, but you? You've never killed _anybody!_ And since you're bossing Hydro-Man around, that means you're not going to let anybody drown!"

"I... well I..." Jesus _Christ, _the kid saw right through my bluff! She was either a genius or I was way worse at lying than I thought, but it was still humiliating either way. "Gah, you little brat! Just who the hell do you think you are?"

The round ship landed on the deck and the glass dome opened up to reveal a little black girl dressed like a total nerd: big coke bottle glasses? A frizzy ponytail pointing straight up into the air? A single boxing glove? Rollerblades? A lemon yellow crash helmet? _Suspenders? _I know I don't exactly have room to talk about lame outfits, but she looked ridiculous! She looked like a friggin' female Urkel!

But I couldn't bring myself to laugh at her.

Because I saw the Tyrannosaurus Rex seated right next to her.

"Holy sh-"

**"DUDE!"** Morrie interrupted with a weirdly quiet giggle while the kid stepped up and introduced herself.

"I'm Moon Girl, the smartest girl in the world! That's my friend Devil Dinosaur, and today? We decided to take a shot at stopping those yacht robberies we keep hearing about on the news!"

I gawked in silent horror while the Tyrannosaur called Devil Dinosaur stood up. He definitely lived up to his namesake, alright: his skin was a brilliant shade of red that I could only imagine was the same hue as the fire burning in the deepest pits of hell, while his eyes were a terrifying yellow and his fangs were the size of steak knives. He may not have been as big as the T. Rex fossils I had seen in the local museum, but he still towered over me, and his weight caused the deck's wooden flooring to creak and splinter as he boarded the yacht. The crowd screamed and thinned out while I stood rooted to the spot, feeling utterly confused. Was... was this even real? Did I down too much scotch at the Bar With No Name last night? Was this all some elaborate prank by... Mysterio, maybe? I did owe him a couple of bucks and he's petty as hell, after all... 

But no, I had a gut feeling this was real. I mean, in a world where aliens and demons very much exist and New York is constantly terrorized by lizardmen, Russians dressed like rhinos, and Nazis made of bees, a plucky little girl teaming up with a T. Rex wasn't too out of the question. It was still surreal as hell, though. And horrifying, considering the estimated bite force Devil Dinosaur was packing in those jaws of his.

"Morrie?" I whispered up at Hydro-Man, who was also gawking at the weird duo.

**"YEAH?"**

"Drown the dino. _Now._"

Morrie frowned. **"DROWN HIM?"**

"That's what I just said, isn't it?"

You'd think that his first priority would be to do as I said and kill the monster standing between us and a couple of million bucks, but Morrie was in awe as he beheld the terrifying form of Devil Dinosaur. His gaping mouth in particular made him look like a little kid marveling over a dinosaur balloon in the Macy's Thanksgiving Parade.

"Well what are you waiting for? Do it!"

**"BUT HERMAN, HE'S A DINOSAUR!"**

"No shit, Sherlock! He's a big, ferocious dinosaur who's going to ruin this heist! So do as I say and just DROWN HIM!"

**"I CAN'T DROWN HIM HERMAN, HE'S ENDANGERED! I COULD MAKE DINOSAURS EXTINCT AGAIN IF I KILL HIM!"**

"I missed the part where that's my problem."

**"COME ON, CAN'T WE JUST... I DUNNO, KIDNAP HIM?! HAVING A PET T. REX WOULD BE KICKASS, YOU KNOW!"**

"Oh for god's sake Morris, you're thirty five! _Grow up!_"

*POW!*

Our argument was cut short by a spring-loaded boxing glove slugging me in the face from across the deck. Even with the padding my mask provided, I was in shock and staggering backwards like I had been punched by Iron Mike Tyson himself. 

"Oh my gosh, you BOTH need to grow up! Seriously, to think that the Avengers treat _me _like I'm just a dumb little kid..."

My vision cleared, and after steadying myself I could feel my face burn with humiliation as bratty little Moon Girl crossed her arms and shook her head condescendingly. It's humiliating enough to be punched, kicked, and slapped around by an acrobatic quipster who would never shut up, but to have a grade schooler do the same to you? It was outright dehumanizing.

"You... YOU...! You little-"

Moon Girl fired her boxing glove at me again, but this time I was prepared and ducked out of the way. It harmlessly whacked the wall, and while it returned to it's owner I charged up a level two blast and pointed my gauntlets at the kid.

"Alright brat, as much as I _hate_hurting kids, it's clear that you've got an attitude problem! You need to be taught a lesson, and Shocker's School of Hard Knocks is now OPEN!"

I fired a blast of energy that would at least knock her on her keister and give her a good shaking-up in the process... only for Devil Dinosaur to get hit when he decided to charge forward. And to my horror he tanked that blast like a champ and stared me down, his scaly lips spreading in what I'm sure was a cruel saurian grin as he bared his terrifying fangs at me.

"Alright, if you're not going to come quietly then you leave us no choice! Go get 'im, big guy!"

Moon Girl gave Devil Dinosaur a slap on his thigh, and he let loose a sphincter-tightening roar as he barreled forward with his mouth wide open.

"Christ Christ CHRIST!" was all I could inelegantly scream as I desperately tried to charge up a level five blast since I was sure that was the only thing that would stop this beast, but my gauntlets suddenly powered down. Oh, how perfectly timed that was.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" I screamed while Devil Dinosaur closed the distance. I looked past him, and felt my jaw unhinge as she pocketed a strange rod-like object. Considering the timing of her putting that away and my gauntlets powering down, it wasn't hard to put two and two together. "You disabled my gauntlets! Oh, you stupid little brat!"

"And it's all thanks to my Disruptor Wand! Made it myself, you know!" She bragged while Devil Dinosaur lunged at me. I dove away from him, but he was able to clamp down on my foot with... surprisingly less force than I expected. But I screamed all the same as he hoisted me into the air and swung me around like crazy before flinging me across the deck of the ship. I made a not-so graceful landing on top of one of the tables bearing food and plopped face first into a pretty pink-colored cake, decorated with edible white roses and strings of fondant pearls. It didn't feel good trashing a work of culinary art, but it sure as hell felt worse having gobs of cake and frosting smeared across my mask. I brushed it off the best I could, and while I was busy Morrie finally put his childish love of dinosaurs aside and engaged the dynamic duo himself. Which in theory should have been an easy battle...

Emphasis, of course, on "In theory".

**"HEY! I'M NOT GONNA LET YOU PUSH MY PAL AROUND LIKE THAT!"**

With a cry of absolute fury, Morrie lunged down at Devil Dinosaur and picked him up with a titanic hand. He pulled him up closer to his face, and booming laughter echoed across the Hudson as he threw him into the air, caught him by the tail, and rapidly spun him around in circles while the dino let out high-pitched cries of pain.

"HEY, STOP IT!" Moon Girl whined.

**"NO WAY, KID! COOL DINO OR NOT, HE'S GONNA PAY FOR HURTING HERMIE LIKE THAT!"**

I felt pretty proud of my buddy, not gonna lie. But I didn't have much time to celebrate since Moon Girl reached into the backpack she was carrying and whipped out an odd orblike object with blunt spines all over it. I had no idea what it was, but I could already tell that it was bad news for Morrie given how confidently she skated forward with it in tow.

"Brace yourself, Devil! This is going to hurt!"

"No, no, no... MORRIE! LOOK OUT!"

I desperately tried to catch up to her, but despite being a decent runner she effortlessly outpaced me before leaping into the air and hurling the object at Morrie with a surprisingly powerful underhand toss. The object collided with his watery face, then suddenly lit him up like a Christmas tree as brilliant blue electricity surged throughout his body. He screamed and contorted wildly while Devil Dinosaur did the same, and he let the dino go before his enormous body exploded and collapsed into the ocean. Devil Dinosaur went soaring over my head and despite his immense weight? He didn't smash through the floor upon impact like I expected, and merely found himself embedded in a small, shallow crater of splintered wood. Due to the combination of the brutal electrocution and high fall I assumed he was heavily injured or dead... but nope, his eyes snapped open and he got right back on his feet, wasting no time in lunging at me with those scary teeth of his.

"GOD!"

I dodged his bite, and then another before rolling under him. I repeatedly jammed the trigger on my gauntlet, reasoning that this dumb kid couldn't have _possibly _disabled it for good. But no dice: it remained ineffective and useless.

"Oh come on!"

Not left with many options good for fighting off vicious Tyrannosaurs, I looked up at his belly, realized that the saggy tan skin would logically be softer than his thick red scales, and slugged him hard in his leathery gut. Devil Dinosaur let out what I could only describe as a guttural Scooby Doo-esque howl of pain while I rolled back out from under his lumbering staggering form and laughed, happy to finally get a good hit in.

"HA! Not so tough now, are you?"

Devil Dinosaur found his footing and glared daggers at me, his normally slitted pupils rounding out and enveloping his eyes in inky, shark-like blackness. It was intimidating for sure, but it wouldn't do jack about the fact that I knew his weakness: getting hit in the gut. And if I could make him do the T. Rex equivalent of doubling over in pain by just punching him, then maybe I could actually kill him if I were to use a proper weapon. Maybe force a Fortunato goon to give up his gun, or...

Use a large steak knife I saw laying next to a juicy roast. Just cut him open and spill his guts all over the ship!

...ugh. I never liked blood or gore but in the face of certain doom, this was not the time to be a wuss. Devil Dinosaur took off running after me, snarling ferociously as I made a beeline for the table. I swiped the knife, faced the dinosaur, and assumed a crouching position as he lumbered closer and closer. I dove to the right with hope of quickly running back underneath him while he course-corrected... but no, somehow the damn dinosaur _anticipated _my evasive maneuver and caught me by slightly turning and nailing me with a headbutt powerful enough to throw me overboard into the cold, unforgiving sea. And let me tell you: nothing's worse than a soaking wet costume. Especially one that covers every single inch of your body and clings to you like a bugger. I was in shock thanks to the all-enveloping cold and could barely sputter out a weak "Morrie... Morrie, help..." while fighting to keep my head above water. I'm pretty sure I was on the verge of blacking out and drowning, but guess who came to save me in the nick of time?

"HERMIE! I've got ya buddy, just hold on!"

Yep, even after taking way too many volts of electricity, Morrie was quick to lift me out of the water and carry me out bridal style back towards the ship, having switched his look from massive water titan to normal muscular guy with his lower body enveloped by a whirlpool that propelled him through the sky. He tensed up, and suddenly I went from soaking wet and deathly cold to dry and slowly warming up thanks to him absorbing all the moisture from my body.

"Ugh... thanks man." I grunted while Morrie nodded.

"No problem, pal. But listen: I don't feel so good about fighting that kid and her dinosaur anymore. She's got electric weapons, and your gauntlets are all busted up, so wouldn't ya say that it's time for us to... ya know, cut our losses and move on?"

That was weirdly perceptive coming from a guy like Morrie of all people. Looks like I taught him well: as humiliating as it can be to run from a battle, if you know you're outgunned? Then you should do the smart thing and run for the hills, take some time to regroup and lick your wounds, and go after your big score another day. The problem was... well, this advice wasn't so demeaning when you were pitted against guys like Spider-Man, Luke Cage, or Daredevil who beat high profile supervillains senseless as their day job. But when the person slapping you around was an annoying little grade schooler, even if she had a big, surprisingly intelligent dinosaur backing her up it was humiliating. Dehumanizing! If I let a little kid scare me off with such a huge audience watching, I'd be a laughingstock! Supervillains, Superheroes, and the mainstream media would never let me hear the end of it. So no, even if it went against everything I stood for, I shook my head and put my foot down with Morrie.

"No. Not now, not ever! She's just a little kid Morrie, all we have to do is knock her out or tie her up, put the dino out of commission, and BOOM! We can resume stripping these rich idiots of their valuables!"

"Hermie, in case ya didn't realize, girlie and her dino pal are cleaning our clocks! Seriously, I don't think it's a good idea-"

"Alright Morrie, are YOU the guy who planned this heist out?"

"Well, no-"

"Do you plan out ANY of these heists?"

"No, but-"

"Did you even finish high school?"

"Well-"

"Then shut up, and do as I say! Look, all you need to do is take care of the dinosaur while I get the kid. That way, she can't shock you, and the dinosaur gets roughed up by a guy who can go toe to toe with him! It's that simple!"

Morrie breathed deeply through his nose, then nodded at me. "Yeah, fine. I'll do it..."

"Good, good! Now put me down, and let's put that brat in her place!"

Morrie and I landed back on deck, while Moon Girl grinned at us with her arms folded smugly as can be. Meanwhile, Devil Dinosaur watched us with his head cocked in bestial amusement.

"Do you guys give up, or are you thirsty for more?" Moon Girl teased while I clenched both my fists.

"Alright, you mouthy little brat. As of right now, the kid gloves _come off._ I'm gonna knock all your baby teeth right out of your skull!"

I ran forward, and swung at her, only for Moon Girl to slide under my arm and skate to safety while I spun around and charged at her again.

"Easy, mister! That's child abuse, you know!"

"Well if you want to pick a fight with an adult, then I'll _treat you like an adult!_"

I took a few more swings at her, only for her to constantly duck and weave past my big, heavy fists. I ended up nailing her right in the gut with a sucker punch that knocked the air right out of her, but before I could really bring the pain she returned the favor by socking me in my gut with that stupid boxing glove. I doubled over and cried out in pain while she bounced up and smiled as a few wirey tentacles came out of her backpack.

"Did you _seriously _forget about my glove? Wow, you're as dumb as your costume looks!"

Great, not only was I getting my ass handed to me by an elementary schooler, but she was quipping. _Quipping! _That made it so much more demeaning than when Spider-Man did it.

"Well you look dumber!" I cried, all dignity and good retorts forgotten while I grabbed a chair and tried to break it over her head. She bounced away while I struck the ground, then sprayed a weird liquid all over my costume's lenses from her tentacle-wires.

"GAH! TH-THE HELL?!" I cried out while I desperately tried to wipe the smudge out of my eyes. 

"Oops, sorry about that! I'd help clean it and all, but... well, you're kind of sort of a HUGE jerk so I'll let you sit with that for a while! Now if you'll excuse me, I've got an even bigger jerk to deal with!"

Since the amount of protection my mask provided hardly even mattered at this point, I simply ripped it off and got a clear view of Moon Girl skating towards Devil Dinosaur and Hydro-Man. He was flying and zipping around, propelled by his whirlpool lower body while nailing the big dino with punch after punch with enormous fists made out of water. It was clear that Morrie had the advantage here, but that dumb kid was more than capable of evening the odds given all the bullshit she had thrown our way tonight.

"Morrie, watch out! That kid's gonna shock you!"

"Alright you big bully, I told you once and I'll tell you again..."

Moon Girl reached into her backpack, but instead of an electric bomb she whipped out a taser.

"Leave Devil ALONE!"

When she got close enough she took aim and fired, plugging him right in the chest and sending way too many volts of electricity coursing through his body once again. Hydro-Man's watery limbs boiled into steam before turning back to normal, and he made a weird blubbering noise while convulsing madly until he fell to the ground a drooling, unconscious mess.

"MORRIE!" I cried out while Moon Girl dropped her taser and dusted her hands off. I couldn't believe it. I couldn't. Freaking. Believe it. Morris Bench, career supervillain who had regularly went toe-to-toe with the likes of Spider-Man and the Fantastic Four, with powers that could make him an Avengers tier threat if he really applied himself... beaten by a snot-nosed little kid. And the way things were shaping up, I was next on the chopping block.

"Well, that takes care of him! And now, for Shocker!"

Moon Girl swiftly skated towards me at a leftward angle while Devil Dinosaur came charging over from the right, and both were quickly drifting towards the center which cut off quite a few escape routes. So with my options severely limited and gauntlets ruined, I growled and took the one option I had left: I jumped overboard. Even one year later I still have no idea what exactly I was planning. Maybe I was going to try the superhuman feat of swimming back to shore and hiding from the cops while I let the heat die down. Or maybe I didn't want to live with the humiliation of being beaten by a kid and was trying to get myself killed. I dunno, but no matter what my plans really were they were rendered moot when Devil Dinosaur lunged forward and bit down on my foot before I could go entirely overboard.

He tossed me into the air where Moon Girl followed me, having achieved flight thanks to a propeller protruding from her backpack. She rose higher and higher at a quicker pace than I, and once gravity worked its magic and began to tug me back down to Earth, Moon Girl reared back the arm with the boxing glove, and I felt my stomach drop as I realized what was going to happen.

"Aw hell."

She helped speed up my decent by slugging me in the stomach with a spring-loaded punch, which sent me crashing onto the deck with enough force to splinter the wood beneath me upon landing. My outfit helped soften the impact felt by my body, but since I stupidly removed my mask earlier? My unprotected head hit the ground with enough force knock me out cold, barely giving me enough time to register the fact that this heist had failed, and miserably at that.


	2. Down the Crapper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of being humiliated by Moon Girl and Devil Dinosaur isn't a fun one. Shocker watches whatever respectability he had among others go down the toilet in real time, along with his self-confidence to boot.

Having spent twelve years committing crimes as The Shocker, I like to think I've grown something of a thick skin over time. Oh sure, it's annoying as hell when every smartass cop, "witty" prosecutor, or average Joe on the street thinks they're some kind of comedic genius when they call me a quilted clown or pineapple man, but it doesn't inspire more than mild irritation on my end. I mean, seriously: using the same insults and nicknames for that long? Get some new material, people!

But while I've been able to let the usual insults float in through one ear and out the other, having to live with the fact that I got my shit kicked in by a nine-year old and her pet T. Rex was like a waking nightmare. Because even when people snarked about my choice of name and outfit, they at least knew I was a legit threat. People screamed and ran away when I'd bust into a bank and fire off a few vibroshock blasts, the cops consider me a big enough threat to send several cars at when they're called in, and I had enough street cred for Doctor Octopus to personally hand-pick me for Sinister Six membership alongside big-names like Sandman, Rhino, Electro, and Vulture five years back. But after that fateful day on the Fortunato family yacht, I could kiss my reputation as a decently threatening B-List crook goodbye. Thanks to some idiot on the yacht filming me and Morrie's humiliating loss to that kid and posting it on Youtube, I got to wake up to the orderlies and my nurse snickering about me in my own hospital room. When I was fit for release and escorted to the police car waiting to ship me off to the station, I had an audience of chortling mouth-breathers filming me while encouraging their kids to kick me in the gonads. And I couldn't even escape the teasing right before court, since my own damn attorney couldn't keep a straight face around me.

"Well Herman, I've got a good f-"

Janice Lincoln bit down on her bottom lip in order to keep a giggle from slipping out.

"I-I've got a good feeling about today's tri-"

She sputtered, then wheezed as her attempt at containing her laughter was quickly falling part. I drummed my fingers against the desk and gazed down at it's smooth, steel surface, unable to look her in the eye while she lost her self-imposed battle of wills and cackled like a drunken idiot.

"Well, I know who I'm not inviting to my next heist." 

Janice made a swift recovery from her laughing fit and condescendingly shook her head. "To where, LEGO Land? If you need help fending off grade schoolers, you might want to ring up Hippo and Big Wheel because that's below my pay-grade."

I slammed my fist on the table. "Will you shut up about that?! I lost to the smartest girl- no, smartest PERSON in the world! A supergenius being hyped up as the next Reed Richards who owns a goddamned T. Rex, for crying out loud! I-I'm not pathetic, she's just punching WAY below her weight class!"

And that was no bull: I did a bit of light reading at the hospital, and it turned out that the Daily Bugle's front page item was a detailed, highly informative article going over Moon Girl. Apparently she actually _was _the smartest person in the world, beating out the likes of Victor von Doom, Hank Pym, Bruce Banner, and the aforementioned Reed Richards himself if a lone study conducted by Rockefeller University was to be believed. She befriended a pissed-off, grieving dinosaur from another dimension, and can apparently swap minds with him every full moon. Real trippy stuff right there. But judging by the way she rolled her eyes, Janice wasn't impressed in the slightest.

"She's still a nine year old girl, Herman. A nine year old girl who beat you up with gadgets straight out of _The Goonies._ You've got to admit, that's pretty embarrassing."

"Oh, that is _rich!_ You decided to steal the identity of The Beetle, one of the worst supervillains to ever menace New York, and you call _me _anembarrassment?"

"Again: only one person in this room got beaten up by a little kid, and it sure as hell wasn't me."

I propped my left arm up on the table and leaned forward, massaging my temples in hopes of alleviating the headache I got from that smug bitch's grandstanding. Now let's give credit where it's due: as far as her law career is concerned, Janice Lincoln is legit. Not in terms of being an ethical lawyer, but in terms of being a lying, cheating shyster who makes Johnnie Cochran look like a joke. It doesn't matter how severe a crime is or how damn unhinged her defendant is, Janice never fails to swagger into court in that pretty purple pantsuit of hers, ready to pull every dirty trick in the book to make sure her defendant spends as little time in the big house as humanly possible. She'll cook up ridiculously over the top sob stories involving childhood abuse, mental illnesses, and hidden kernals of goodness just waiting to be revealed that never fail to tug at the jury's collective heartstrings. She'll bring in fake witnesses to throw off the Prosecution's case, bait emotional reactions from said prosecutors to try to force a mistrial, use her connections in the NYPD to fudge the incriminating evidence, and when all else fails? Scare the ever-loving hell out of the jury with her vast network of underworld acquaintances by way of her doting father Tombstone. Needless to say, if you've ever asked how psychos like Bullseye and Scorpion or crooks like Vulture and I are running around despite constantly getting beaten up and arrested? Thank Janice for turning our justice system into a revolving door for the bad guys.

But it didn't stop her from being a lame-ass supervillain, that's for sure. Seriously, bored rich girl decides to become a costumed crook for fun? She's basically White Rabbit with better tech, but at least White Rabbit had the decency to create her own identity. Janice was too damn lazy to even do that and simply had the Fixer modify Abner Jenkins' old Beetle costume into a more flattering, lady-like shape while she robbed banks and museums with his old tech. And while she's better at Abner's old job than he ever was, she's nowhere near as likeable. Yeah sure, Abner was a klutz who got me in plenty of trouble thanks to his clumsiness, but he was a hell of a nice guy who knew how to be a team player when it counted. With Janice, it was nothing but sarcarsm, eye-rolling, and condescension when we'd team up for heists, and the same went for our client/attorney relationship as well.

"Look Herman, there's no need to get all whiny and pissy, okay? Like I said earlier, I have a really good feeling about this trial! Now dad's going to need some time to talk the Fortunatos out of chaining you up and tossing you in the Hudson, so for your own safety, you'll have to do some jailtime. But as long as you're cooperative and take the DA's offer, we can easily haggle your sentence down to a measly year as opposed to the usual twenty. And since you got trashed by a little kid, Judge Evans likely won't feel the need to drop the hammer on you. And if he does... well, I happened to snap some saucy photos of him and his secret mistress last night for insurance."

I shrugged and leaned back in my chair. A year behind bars wasn't fun, but I've spent enough time in prison to get used to the dull repetition of that sort of lifestyle. I'd survive.

"Sounds like a plan," I affirmed right when the bailiff entered our room and waved us over.

"Good to know!" Janice replied with a smile as she got up from her chair. "And I'll make sure Morris gets the same treatment, so don't worry about him! Just make sure not to cry when Moon Girl takes the stand."

"Go to hell," I growled while Janice looked away, trying to hide the stupid grin on her face as she led me to the courtroom.

* * *

And just as I expected, everything went according to plan: I cooperated with the prosecution and let them know where all the stolen loot was, let Janice spin a sob story to the jury, and the result was one year in prison with the possibility of time off for good behavior.

Now if you're curious about supervillain prison, I'll give you a quick rundown: I don't know about how they handle things in the rest of the world, but here in good ol' NYC us supercriminals were carted off to one of three facilities depending on how dangerous we were: Ryker's Island was the place most street-level crooks were sent, ranging from ordinary gangsters like Jigsaw and Hammerhead to losers like Stilt-Man and Leapfrog since they could easily be contained in a normal prison. If you were a lot more dangerous, or at least tougher to contain however, then you got shipped off to the Raft, a modern-day Alcatraz boasting state of the art tech that kept even the heaviest hitters in line. And by heavy hitters, I mean really scary guys like the Purple Man, Norman Osborn, Bullseye, Abomination... plus, criminals who were simply smart enough to easily escape from normal prisons or had enough influence to do so, which also meant that guys like me, Mysterio, and on one occasion Justin Hammer were shipped off here. If you were severely mentally ill however, then you were sent to the Ravencroft Institute for the Criminally Insane for medical treatment... in theory. Sadly, you were likely to end up being abused by the orderlies and psychologists as opposed to actually helped out, which leads to guys like Gladiator never getting the help that they desperately need.

But anyway, despite what you'd expect life in the Raft wasn't half bad: the food was pretty damn good by prison standards (their Salisbury steak in particular was divine), they had a library and rec room you could spend the afternoon unwinding in, and since the guards were held to incredibly high standards you didn't have to worry about them abusing you or paying off an inmate to shank you in the shower. Compare that to Ryker's which was your basic rough, cruel hellhole prison with violent inmates who'd happily beat and sodomize you while the guards twiddled their thumbs and it was a damn good tradeoff. Sure, there were a lot of hours dedicated to just sitting around in your cell, but that was easily alleviated by reading a book you rented from the library, making small talk with the other guys in their cells or your own cellmate if you had one, or even chatting with the guards since even if they never engaged with you, they were good listeners. I personally tried losing myself in a good book while also thinking of ways to salvage my awful reputation as a career criminal.

Emphasis, of course, on tried. Because I was unlucky enough to get a cellmate who _never shut the hell up._

"Yo, Shocker! Just wanna say it's real nice getting to bunk with you, ya know? Last time I was here, I had to share a cell with Bullseye. Ya know, the psycho who kills people by throwing paper clips and playing cards at em? Before they moved him that douchebag sent me to the ER by making me choke on a peanut he flicked down my throat! That sucked, but hey: looks like they wised up, 'cause they gave me a fellow loser to shoot the shit with! I guess Lady Luck's finally looking to give Toad some love, yeah?"

My cellmate hopped towards the wall of our cell and clung to it, flashing a wide-mouthed, yellow-toothed grin at me. I tried my best to ignore him while I poured over the copy of Patriot Games I rented from the prison library, but it was damn near impossible to do so. Partially because he wouldn't shut the hell up, but also because he looked so damn weird. Sallow gray skin, bulging red eyes, gangly limbs, a green amphibian tongue that lashed at a moth roosting on the ceiling? There were weirder looking mutants out there, but Todd "Toad" Tolansky was a goofy-looking guy all the same, to the point of it being a major distraction.

"Buzz off, kid. I'm reading." I grumbled when I caught myself reading the same sentence for the fifth time in a row.

"Reading, huh? 'Bout what: dinosaurs killing people? Badass knights slaying dragons? Aliens invading Earth?" Toad crooked an eyebrow and licked his lips with that slimy tongue of his. "Smokin' hot babes fighting demons in metal bikinis?"

"A former marine fighting Irish terrorists, now shut up and leave me alone."

Toad scoffed and frowned. "Really? That's it? Not even in like a Captain America sorta way?"

I groaned and slammed the open book to my face. "What, you mean like throwing shields at them? No, he doesn't."

"That's lame, yo. No powers, no superheroes, no muties... man, you gotta have brain damage to read junk like that!"

"You got me Toad, I have brain damage. Now please, just shut up and give me some space already."

"Aw man, sorry 'bout that."

I actually cracked a smile when I heard the sincerity in his tone. It was a real nice change of pace from all the mockery I had faced the past week...

"I mean, I shoulda realized that the fall ya took would scramble your brains a bit. Ya know, from when that little girl kicked your ass?"

Aaaaaaand just like that, the tiny shred of goodwill Toad worked up vanished in an instant. I could hear some giggling from the other nearby cells, and my cheeks started to feel a lot warmer.

"Toad, stop it." I warned while I flipped the page of my book.

"Talking about getting whipped by that kid, ya mean?"

"_Yes, _that." I growled harshly.

"Aw man, sorry about that," Toad apologized again, before totally (toad-ally?) invalidating said apology with an added, "But just so ya know, there's no shame in getting trashed by a kid! It's happened to me too, ya know!"

The laughter returned, stronger and with the recognizable sounds of a few of my drinking buddies getting in on the fun: I could hear Electro's slightly nasally cackle, Absorbing Man's gruff chuckle, Spot's raspy "**Heh, heh, heh...**"

"Toad..." I warned, my face burning red-hot.

"Y'see, there was this one time Blob and I went out for a walk in Central Park, and he got us some candy! Unfortunately, they were Skittles and I hate Skittles, so I tried to pawn 'em off to this little girl. I asked if she wanted some candy, and she just freaked the hell out, yo! Punted me square in the nuts!"

"TOAD."

"Then she ran over to her parents and started crying and whining about what I did so they came and started kickin' the crap outta-GYAGH!"

His stupid story was cut short when I lunged at him, shoved my hand in his mouth, and pulled his long froggy tongue out before I started squeezing the hell out of it.

"Stop it. _Now._"

Toad nodded, giving muffled cries of pain while his bulbous eyes nearly popped out of his skull.

"Good."

I released his tongue which caused Toad to fall right off the wall and onto the ground. He curled up in a fetal position and massaged his injured tongue, moaning sadly while I frowned at my slobber and slime-coated hand in disgust. I guess it was to be expected since... well, he _was _called Toad with his mutation playing that angle up for all it was worth, but it was disgusting all the same. Thankfully, while I wiped my hand on the pants of my orange jumpsuit, another prisoner decided to chime in which helped take my mind off of it.

"Why'd you let up, Herman? Go on, grab that tongue'a his and yank on it some more. Rip it _right _outta the guy's skull, and let 'im drown in his own blood. The garglin' and cryin' is music to my ears..."

A cold shiver went down my spine as I looked through the translucent, powerful electric barrier barring the cell's doorway, and saw a hulking, musclebound freak with shaggy blonde hair and particularly bushy sideburns leering at me from the cell right across mine, chuckling in that horrible raspy voice of his. "Nah, on second thought, don't. Once I get outta here I need a punchin' bag ta warm me up fer Logan, and it'd be a shame if 'lil Toady Tolansky wasn't alive ta squeal fer me..."

Toad squealed like a little girl and rolled right under the bottom bunk, and I could hear the poor guy whimpering while more of the speaker's cruel, barking laughter rang out through the cell block. Normally I'd make fun of him for being such a wuss (hypocritical, I know) but there was nothing funny about this particular situation. Honestly, I wanted to follow Toad's example and hide under the bed with him, but I stayed where I was, book in hand and pale as a ghost. Because even if you're in a supermax prison built specifically to contain freaks like him, you never, _ever _wanted to trigger Sabretooth's prey drive. Because there are fewer things in this world scarier than being targeted by a sadistic immortal cannibal mutant strong enough to regularly beat the shit out of Wolverine without breaking a sweat.

"Sabretooth," I replied, using every ounce of willpower I had to keep my voice steady, "Uh... hey."

"Hey," Sabretooth growled back, baring his horrible fangs in a twisted smile, "How's yer first day back in the slammer treatin' ya?"

"Uh... okay, I guess?" I replied.

"Figured as much. I mean, it's preferable to gettin' man-handled by a nine year old, that's fer sure!"

I couldn't bring myself to throw my book off the bunk, tell him to piss off, or do just about anything in fear of that lunatic taking offense. So I simply remained silent while he laughed his ass off at his oh-so-original insult.

"Just pullin' yer leg, Herman," He promised while I thanked my lucky stars that he meant it from a figurative standpoint, "Honestly, if I were you I'd follow Toad's advice: Ignore them cacklin' clowns that are makin' fun of ya. Take it from a guy who's been runnin' around God's green earth fer over two hundred years: there are some scary powerful kids out there! I mean, just lookit some of those newer X-Men: Jubilee, Logan's lady clone... some'a the fiercest fighters I've ever seen!"

Did my ears deceive me, or was Sabretooth... actually trying to cheer me up? I never thought he had the capacity to actually empathize with his fellow man, since he was more along the lines of someone who would rather kill you, rape you, and eat you, and not necessarily in that order.

"Oh. Um, thanks..."

"No problem, Herman," He chuckled with surprising warmth, "Just let this be a lesson to ya: never hold back. _E__ver. _Too many of you guys pussyfoot around puttin' the hurt on rugrats like that Lunella kid, and ta no one's surprise ya end up gettin' mauled somethin' fierce. So if ya ever cross paths with her in the future? _Gut her_. Rip her throat out, snap her brittle bones, chomp off all her tiny little fingers!"

He cackled uproariously and I felt absolutely sick to my stomach now that I got a swift reminder of why Sabretooth was hated by a good 95% of the supervillain community.

"Alright Herman, you were yappin' at Toad fer interruptin' yer light readin', so I'll leave ya be. Besides, I've got a book'a my own that I need to get caught up on."

"The 120 Days of Sodom?" I asked apprehensively.

"Charlotte's Web! Always had a soft spot fer talkin' animal stories."

He chuckled softly and I could hear him thumbing through the pages of a book, seemingly sincere with that little remark of his. Meanwhile, I tried and failed to stay engaged with my own book. I was just way too busy thinking about how Morrie was handling prison, and hoping that my pal at least had better company around his cell...

* * *

"Alright Mr. Schultz, Mr. Bench, you are both cleared for release! Have a nice life, you two!"

"Thanks, ma'am."

"We'll try!"

Thanks to Morrie and I being on our best behavior, our already (relatively) short prison sentences were reduced to a mere eight months as a reward and that time flew by quicker than expected. We were currently on our way back to the mainland on a skiff piloted by a crusty, mustached old sailor by the name of Captain Lieber, and I was currently discussing strategy with a disgruntled Morrie.

"Well thanks to our defeat at Moon Girl's hands, all progress made in accumulating our Big Score has been entirely reset, and we're now total laughingstocks to the world at large. That's... not a comforting thought, I've gotta admit."

"Understatement of the year, pal." Morrie stated glumly. "We got our butts kicked by a little girl. A freaking little girl! How are we even gonna face the guys after that?"

That was a hell of a question, wasn't it? I honestly had no idea myself, but since I did the thinking for Morrie, the last thing the poor guy needed to know was that his buddy was as clueless as he was. So I mustered up as much faux courage as I could as I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Well buddy, in this line of work, actions speak louder than words. If we don't want Electro or Scorpion giving us shit, we need to get our asses in gear right now. First, we need to visit my..." I glanced at the captain nervously, and sighed when I saw he had some earphones on and was whispering song lyrics under his breath. 

_"March along, march along, march along to the song of the Merry Marvel Marching Society..."_

"-visit my cache over in Hell's Kitchen. Got a spare set of gauntlets, a burner phone, and a few thousand bucks there, so let's rent out a warehouse or sewer dwelling to hole up in while I go make some calls and see if our usual clientele need any jobs done for them. Break a few legs for Tombstone, rip off a few museums and art houses for Kingpin, and soon we'll have enough cash and street cred to put together a crew of our own! Rhino, Vulture, Electro, Beetle..." I cringed and crinkled my nose in disgust at the last part, "Basically, we can form our own Sinister Six! But instead of picking fights with Spider-Man, we'd pull an Ocean's 11 and... and..."

I trailed off and sat in silence, putting my hand to where my mouth would be under my mask while I leaned forward and cast my gaze to the floor.

"And what?" Morrie asked, giving me an enthusiastic smack on the back. "And what, Hermie?!"

This was the part where I was supposed to say "And pull off crazy heists", but I couldn't muster up the ability to get those last few words out there. Because I was already looking way, way into the future, and saw all kinds of scary things in store for me. Namely, a guy in red and blue tights calling me names and web-zipping around like crazy before punching my lights out, a total psycho dressed in white slicing me to ribbons in the name of some Egyptian god, a bulletproof black guy tanking everything I had to throw at him before punching me through several brick walls... and of course, an insufferable 9 (or was she 10 years old by now?) year old genius riding atop a ferocious pet Tyrannosaur eager to gobble me up. There were so many goddamned superheros in New York, I tell you. And these weren't even eight percent of them, which was a demoralizing thought for sure. How in the hell was a crook supposed to make an honest living like this?

_'You'll think of something, Herman,' _I thought to myself, only not as confidently as I'd like, _'You'll think of something.'_

"We'll... well, we'll steal stuff, that's what." I replied, clearing my throat while Morrie cocked an eyebrow.

"Well duh, that's kinda what thieves do."

"Hey, why don't you leave the sarcasm to me, alright?" I jabbed lightheartedly, able to squeeze out a genuine chuckle while I elbowed Morrie in the ribs. "Meanwhile, all you have to do is just sit pretty while I get everything figured out. W-We'll recover from this, man. Honest to god: if Tony Stark could bounce back from being an alcoholic trainwreck and Hank Pym could salvage his reputation after going full-on psycho supervillain, we can totally recover from the whole Moon Girl fiasco."

"I hope so, pal."

_'You and me both, Morrie,' _I thought to myself while Captain Lieber made port in the Upper East Side.

"Land ho!" he called out in that slightly gruff, grandfatherly voice of his as he pulled up to the wharf and came to a stop. "Have a good night fellas, and seriously: I hope prison finally taught you two a lesson!"

"Yeah yeah, don't lie, don't cheat, don't steal..." I grumbled.

"Don't waste your life on petty crime," Captain Lieber corrected, his tone surprisingly gentle as he stood tall and pointed sternly at us, the kind-hearted twinkle in his eye visible through the tinted lens of his sunglasses, "You fellas are in the prime of your life, and have decades of fun times ahead of ya! You don't want to waste 'em rotting in some dingy prison cell! Take it from me: old age has a funny way of sneakin' up on ya, and before you know it you'll be too old and weak to have any real fun. Once you get to be that age, I hope you have plenty of fond memories to look back on!"

That... was honestly pretty heavy, not gonna lie. I turned my gaze to the hustling, bustling streets of New York and stood there for a good few seconds, reflecting on the old coot's words. My stomach clenched up and there was this weird, crushing sensation in my chest as I noticed a few passerby gawking and pointing at me, gossiping among themselves.

"Thanks for the ride, sir," I said, unable... or perhaps unwilling to acknowledge his wise words. "Come on, Morrie,"

Morrie followed me over to the sidewalk while the captain waved goodbye at us. I ignored him not out of malice, but of necessity as I focused entirely on our first matter of business: legging it to Hell's Kitchen to get my stuff. It would be a long trip, but a little exercise never hurt anyone.

"You know Morrie, while we're at it we should swing by the Bar With No Name. I'm pretty sure we could both use a friggin' drink right about now."

"You said it, pal!" Morrie laughed as we walked past a pretzel stand, "I need somethin' to make me forget the taste of the Raft's crappy coffee! I mean seriously, it's like someone peed in a tar pit or something, it's disgusting!"

"Yeah, coffee is not their forte," I laughed, "Their chocolate milk though, _that's _the stuff."

"Eh," Morrie replied with a shrug, "Ovaltine's better."

"Seriously? Come on Morrie, are you high?" I pursed my lips and chuckled. "Heh, who am I kidding? You'd have to be to enjoy that crap! Seriously, it tastes like someone mixed cat food with cocoa powder!"

Morrie rose a finger to the air in protest, only to lower it and stare incredulously at me. "Uh... are you speakin' from experience, Hermie?"

I shamefully cast my gaze off to the side and frowned, unable to say anything in my defense. Morrie let out a bawdy wheeze that trailed off into a snicker.

"Pfft, HA HA! Aw man, and they call _me _retarded!"

"I was six years old, give me a break!" I whined while Morrie continued guffawing like a dumbass.

"So? I was six too, and I never ate that stuff!"

"That's because you were busy eating crayons, you knucklehead!"

This time we were both laughing, earning the ire of the passerby who were quick to shout typical New Yorkerisms such as "Get a job!" or "Shut the hell up, dumbass!" But I didn't care: after being the victim of so much mockery or innocent condescension, it felt good to engage in some light-hearted banter like this. It did a lot to ease the feelings of shame and self-doubt that had been plaguing me the past 8 months. For a few brief seconds I actually felt _good... _until a certain horrible, all-too-familiar sound rang out from above.

_*Thwip!*_

I had maybe a fraction of a second to register the thin black web that attached itself to my chest before I was suddenly yanked into the sky, crying out in surprise and leaving a baffled Morrie behind. I was caught by someone and held tight in their grasp as they fired another web and swung across the sky.

"What the- WHAT THE HELL?!"

I turned to my abductor expecting Spider-Man, who would totally be the kind of jerk to harass recently-freed crooks who were just minding their own business... only for my heart to stop when I saw who it really was. He flashed a horrific grin at me with long, razor sharp teeth, and all of a sudden I found myself wishing that it _was _Spider-Man who had grabbed me.

Because Venom was so much worse.

**_"THE FORTUNATOS SEND THEIR REGARDS, SHOCKER!" _ **

I screamed my head off as the hulking, oily black monstrosity swung from building to building, his horrible demonic laughter echoing through the city...


End file.
